Through the Mirror
by Echo Levano
Summary: Hermione sets off in search of a mirror that haunts her nightmares, and her encounter with it changes her life around completely. [Please R&R, or Sirius shall never live again! Chapter 4 up!]
1. Reoccurring Nightmares

[I don't own any of these characters. None. not that I don't wish I did.]  
  
Hermione woke with a start sometime after midnight. Jolting up in bed, she peered wildly about, as though terrified that someone – or something – was there. After a moment, she gave a sigh and leaned back into her pillows, her heart racing. _A nightmare. It was only a nightmare_.  
  
This wasn't the first time that this had happened, at least, not to Hermione's knowledge. For the past month, she'd been having these horrible dream... that is, she thought the were horrible. She never could remember what had happened in them, but she knew there was a mirror, a great, ancient one bordered with jewel-studded oak. You don't think that that's scary? You're wrong. Thinking of it terrified Hermione to bits, and there was no answer as to why.  
  
Willing her heart to be still, Hermione rose from her bed and made her was to the pitcher by the window. After pouring a cold drink for herself, she sunk into a chair and stared out at the night, waiting for sleep to tug at her mind and lure her back to bed. The moon shone like a diamond in the sky, casting a peaceful glow over the world and lulling Hermione into a sense of complete safety and tranquility.  
  
Staring out over the moon-lit world, Hermione's gaze fell upon a small shadow slinking along. Rising, she slid open the window and stuck out her head, intently watching the shadow sneak across the log. Was it a person? What were they doing out at this time?  
  
_It's not a person, _she suddenly realized, _it's a coyote_. But what was a coyote doing here? She'd never seen a coyote slinking about Hogwarts. _Oh my gosh, it's a person, transfigured, here to destroy the mirror_! she suddenly concluded. _I've got to tell Dumble-_  
  
What was she thinking!? A mirror? Why would someone want to break a mirror? She'd probably never seen a coyote here simply because she'd never looked, seeing gone now didn't mean a thing. It was that nightmare, that was all. She was just worked up, and now she was seeing things.  
  
_Granger, get a grip! _Hermione ordered herself, sliding back into her bed without so much as a yawn. She didn't feel at all tired, but still she lay there in the dark, waiting for sleep to claim her.

"Hermione, wake up!" cried a voice, sounding muffled through the sheets Hermione was buried under.  
  
Only half-awake, she sleep Hermione mumbled, "Five more minutes..."  
  
There was the sound on cloth rustling, and Hermione felt someone shaking her. "But classes start in fifteen minutes! Get up!"  
  
"What!?" For the second time that day, Hermione jolted up out of bed, this time with a frantic look on her face. "Fifteen minutes!? Why didn't someone wake me? I'm going to be late!" She leapt from her bed and dove toward the shower, missing the reply of, 'We didn't think you'd sleep this late!' which was called after her.  
  
Even after the five-minute shower she'd taken, Hermione still felt as though she'd only gotten to sleep a couple of hours ago (which was a lot more true than you might think). Using a spell to dry her hair, Hermione shoved her things into a bag and tore down the stairs to get a bite of breakfast before Charms.Hard as she might try, Hermione found it very difficult to keep her mind on Anti-Cheating Charms. Memories of the past night flowed through her mind, making her restless, and causing her to wish very dearly that she hadn't been forced to sit by Draco, where the only remaining seat had been, so that she might talk to them. Why did that nightmare keep haunting her? Had she seen that mirror before, or was it simply a figment of her imagination? She had to find out, and she would, right after these classes. Right now, the most she could do was write notes.  
  
So she did.  
  
Yes! Hermione silently cheered, as she escaped a horrible double potions period taught by none other than the slimiest, greasiest person at Hogwarts. Harry and Ron accompanied her, although they didn't make the slightest effort to suppress groans when she trouped into the library.  
  
"Oh, be quiet," Hermione muttered, selecting a very think book and flipping through the faded pages of it's index. "And help me look, will you?"  
  
"Help you look? How can we help you look when you haven't told us what you're looking for?" inquired Ron, earning himself a disgusted, if incorrectly used, glare from Hermione.  
  
"Mirrors."  
  
"Mirrors?"  
  
"'Member my dream?"  
  
"Dream?"  
  
"Honestly, Ron! The nightmares!"  
  
"So what about them? That doesn't mean that this mirror exists."  
  
"It exists. I know it does. You're looking for a old mirror with rubies in its frame and strange symbols at the top." With that, Hermione became very interested in looking at her book and answered no further questions.  
  
"Oh, come on, Hermione! There's nothing here! It was only a dream; there's not a real mirror." Harry looked rather fed up as he slammed 'Ancient Magical Wonders' shut and added it to the tower pile of book they'd checked.  
  
Hermoine looked up as though shocked. "But, Harry, I know it's in here! You two go on to dinner, I want so spend a little longer here, I really thin that this book has it..." And she flipped to the back of the book and looked up 'The Mirror of Erised' as her friends made for the door with promises to return later.  
  
"Page 792, Desrever Mirror, The..." Hermione mumbled; her eyes suddenly grew wide as she turned to the correct page. "Oh!"  
  
"What is it, 'Mione?" questioned Harry, looked at her from around the door.  
  
"Ron! Harry!" Hermione called softly. "Look!"  
  
Her pals scurried over, giving her strange glances as they read about The Desrever Mirror... 


	2. Secrets of the Desrever Mirror

[Funny. Of the two review I received, two of them spoke mainly of Sirius. Whee, so I guess bring him back is a definite yes? Okay, he'll be coming. Probably around chapter five, I don't want him to come too early.  
  
That reminds me, I still don't own Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Charlie, the Dursleys, Rita Skeeter, Sirius, James, Lilly, or any other character, and I've never been bitten by a werewolf or served by a house elf.  
  
And of course, please read and review! Feel free to flame, although if you do decide to flame, give reasons. I don't what to know that you think my story smell like my sister's feet, I want to know _why_. Okay? Okay. Now, on with the story!]  
  
"The Desrever Mirror," Harry read aloud. "Created in 1771 by Ilias Desrever, this mirror has never been fully explained. Images appear within it as mist-like forms. The imprint of a hand has been carved into the oak frame, serving as a keyhole. Chosen Ones are to place their hands in the indentation, and the mirror will change from its solid state, allowing the Chosen One to step through. What happen afterward, no person has returned to tell about.  
  
"The whereabouts of this object, which has been deemed full of Dark Magic and dangerous, currently resides where only those who seek it might find it. Hermione, what /I this?"  
  
"It's what's in my dream. And look!" She jabbed a finger at the mirror the page, more precisely, the writing on it. See, 'the answer lies within your dreams', that is, my dreams. It all fit-"  
  
With a perplexed and somewhat worried look on his face, Ron interrupted, "'Mione, what are you talking about? What writing?"  
  
Hermione showed him. "There, see it? That writing, right there."  
  
Harry and Ron shared a glance, and, somewhat hesitantly, Harry spoke up to point out, "But, Hermione, there's no writing, just some funny symbols." At this, a frown crossed Hermione's face. She ran a finger over the markings on her page, a thoughtful look upon her face. For a moment, she looked lost, as though in another world; an instant later, she'd jerked her hand off the book as though the words had bitten her.  
  
"Yes, yes, but..." she protested, searching for the right words to explain herself. "They _mean_ 'The answer lies within your dream', it's as clear as day. Don't you just feel like those markings simply have to be talking about a certain dream?  
  
"Er, no," chorused her two friends, casting more secret looks between them. Hermione shot them an unreadable look, and, suddenly, they all burst out laughing.  
  
A frantic look in his eye, Harry quickly suggested that they go back to the common room and finish up their homework ('write a two foot report on the different types of Truth Potions and other related potions, due tomorrow', 'make a map of the current star positions, due in two days', and 'devise a plan suitable for training racing thestrals')  
  
"Great idea!" cried the only redhead of the trio, probably experiencing for the first time what it was like to agree so readily to homework. We'll see you in the common room!" Ron hopped of his chair and the two scurried away, leaving Hermione to sign out her book and head back to the common room to do some homework before bed.

* * *

Night had fallen long ago, but still, Hermione was awake. The gentle sound of breathing was the only sound made by the others as they dozed, but Hermione lay wide awake. She simply couldn't sleep.  
  
Rolling over, Hermione peered at the wizard's clock she'd gotten for Christmas. Blinking soft, indigo numbers cried to the world that the time read two forty three, a very silent and unexciting hour. Hermione turned back, but every time she screwed her eyes closed, the mirror popped into her mind, like a friendly reminder that the dream was waiting for her. _No way I'll get to sleep tonight._

But she was wrong. An hour later, she woke with a start, soaked in sweat. Her clock creepily showed that it was three forty three, exactly an hour after she'd last looked at her clock. Shivering, Hermione crept from her bed for a drink, but upon returning to her sleeping-place, found she could bare to sleep. Tonight her dream had been more vivid then ever before, and for once, she could remember everything but what made her so afraid. Her dream-self had prowled down the Hogwarts hallways as silently as a cat, finally coming to a room that held the mirror. Though Hermione had begged her dream-self not to, it had placed it's hand in the indentation of a hand, and from then on, Hermione could remember no more. What she did know, however, is how to find the mirror, and she planned to find it tonight.  
  
Hermione crept silently down the hallways. She moved surely, as though she'd been creeping in the dead of night to this room everyday of her life. Her pulse quickened as she approached the room, and the creak the sounded and she eased the door open made her leap a mile. Inside, and made sure the door as securely locked before turning slowly to examine the contents of the room.  
  
"Wow." It was all she could do, staring at that mirror. It took her breath away. It had a sort of rugged beauty, almost noble. Inching forward, she ran her fingers along its dusty frame, feeling as though she'd been reunited with an old friend. Her finders crept into the indentation, and she laid her hand where it was obviously supposed to be placed.  
  
"Enter..." A soft voice hissed through her head, making her jump. But she couldn't help trusting the voice, like it's hard not to trust that old man who's holding out your wallet, saying that you dropped it. When the mirror changed so that it looked like it was made from fog, she knew what to do without thinking. Not testing to make sure it was truly not solid, she stepped into the mirror...  
  
... and her life turned upside down.


	3. Home Sweet Slytherin

[Still don't own 'em. I wonder if my parents would let me change my name?  
  
Right on the button (mirror?), Bookishknowital! I was wondering when someone would notice that; I'm glad it wasn't right a way, though. Desrever... works better than Sdrawkcab, hey? And to the rest of you, thanks for the wonderful reviews!  
  
And on to the wonderful chapter three, in which Hermione, for the first time in her life, is completely confused and speechless. Woo-hoo! Mr. Dog Star's coming later; I haven't forgotten about him (how could I?).]  
  
Well, no. Not upside-down. Backwards. But Hermione would not notice this right away. She was too busy feeling dizzy. It was as though the mirror had sucked her in, whirled her around, and spat her out. She didn't feel different at all, even if the room was spinning.  
  
Exactly why does no one know what this mirror does? She ponders, slipping silently out the creaky door. She'd not gone two steps when she froze. Peeves was zooming down the corridor away from her, and he had every opportunity to glance back and spot her. Hermione didn't plan to explain to a teacher why Peeves had found her out of bed at night, and so she dove back into the room, not daring to close the door for fear it would squeak and draw attention.  
  
A minute passed... two... five... Finally, Hermione dared move. She'd been lying deathly still, waiting for Peeves to peer around the door, and she couldn't help giving a shaky sigh of relief. Rising from the chilly stone floor, she felt for her wand, planning to use a Silencing Charm on the door, but her hands closed on nothing spare the folds of her pocket.  
  
Fear sizzled through her, and she spun around, praying her wand wasn't lost. Maybe it had fallen from her pocket and she'd flung herself into the room again; maybe it had simply rolled behind her and had come to a rest on the ground, waiting to be picked up again. With luck, it was as simple as that.  
  
She had no luck. Not only did she find the room completely void of her wand, she was shocked to find the mirror gone. It had vanished into thin air. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to say that it had once ever existed, much less spent it's time in this cool room. However, she was too worried about her missing wand to care about the mirror, which probably had an invisibility charm on it. It was probably still there, ready to be felt if she waved her hand in the air, where as her was most certainly gone  
  
_Okay, me, be calm. I probably left it by my bed, that's all. I can't remember using it... can I? No. Nothing to worry about, there's no way I could have lost it. I've even got that Lose-Me-Not Charm on it, it'll roll toward me if it's alone and 'knows' I'm looking for it. No worries. I'll probably meet it as I sneak back to bed._  
  
Reassured, Hermione To the halls again and found then empty of everything but her presence. _This is great, I'll be down in the dungeons a minute, and know one know a – ohmigosh. The dungeons!? That's where Slytherins belong. I'm not in Slytherin. What am I thinking? _Shaken at the direction her feet had turned, she turned back to head back to bed, and halted again. What was the password? She couldn't remember what the Fat Lady had changed it too... and come to think of it, she didn't even know where the portrait that guarded the entrance to her common room _was_. This was impossible, she'd traveled this route a million times and she'd never gotten lost, not once. She probably couldn't think of how to get there, but surely her feet knew the way. Ordering her legs to bring her home, she started off, but with a feeling of cluelessness like nothing she'd ever felt before.  
  
"Hey, 'Mione! Hermione!" called a voice softly, scaring Hermione out of her skin.  
  
"Who's there?" she whispered fearfully, too surprised and shocked by the voice to order, 'Don't call me 'Mione' (although, later thinking back, she found she didn't hate the nickname any longer). She twirled around, her eyes wide with worry that she might be in trouble, to face-  
  
Draco Malfoy. What was he doing here? And what on earth was he doing with her wand? Had she told him to hold it for her sometime today? What am I thinking? I'd never trust Malfoy with my wand, never... But even as she thought the words, she knew they weren't true. How it was, she didn't know, but one thing was sure. Draco – not Malfoy – was her friend, her best friend, and she trusted him above all else. But how? She was friends with Harry and Ron, those filthy goodie-goodies.  
  
_What's going on!? Where are these thoughts coming from?  
_  
"Er, 'Mione? Are you okay?" Draco, looking like a concerned friend, asked, pushing her wand into her hand. "Here's your wand. Did you go find that mirror you've been dreaming about?"  
  
"No!" cried Hermione. "I mean, yes! Yes, I did! It doesn't do anything! I stepped through it, but nothing happened. It just made me dizzy, so I wandered back here. I thought you were Filch, I was about to run for it!"  
  
Draco nodded, satisfied. "Well, insulted as I am that you could think I was that – that _Squib_, I don't think I'll have to turn you into a toad. Come on, let's get back before we're caught." Hermione nodded silently and followed as he led off toward the dungeons. She could remember nothing about ever being anyone but Hermione Granger, a pureblood of Slytherin and Draco's best friend. Her life had been reversed, and though it felt odd, she had no idea why. This was her life now, strange as it felt.

* * *

"Ooh, _awesome _idea!" approved Hermione, nodding as Draco told her of his next plot to get Harry and Ron in trouble. Hermione couldn't wait until morning, her freshly-reversed self was full of mischief and it didn't care this her homework was only worth an 'Acceptable'. After all, she wasn't some studious know-it-all. She was a Slytherin, with typical personality traits (sure as holding grudges and striving for what she wanted).  
  
Encouraged by Hermione's enthusiasm, Draco kept on whispering about things they could do to the Golden Pair. Even if they would never do some of the things, it was fun to imagine locking Voldermort and Harry in a cage that couldn't be escaped from by means of magic.  
  
"Oh, we're here," noted Hermione. "_Unforgivables_." At the sound of the password, the seemingly-normal stone wall's bricks shifted, and an opening appeared. The two slipped through and tiptoed up the stairs toward their rooms.  
  
"See you tomorrow!" the friends hissed quietly two each other before they entered their separate doors at the top. Hermione slipped into her bed and promptly feel into a sleep full of dreams in which she was a Gryffindor. 


	4. Making the Golden Pair Cry

[AN: Zoe's made up, and I guess you could call her mine. The others aren't (unfortunately). Any simularities betweens persons living or dead is purely... (see the Harry Potter books for more, opposite of the dedications page). Sorry I didn't update for so long, but I'll try to have one out at least once a week from now on. Keep reading and reviewing!]

The day dawned bright and early. Though Hermione still felt that many things in her life was 'weird', and her knowledge (and lack of it) sometimes stopped her dead, she couldn't recall the affects of the mirror. Yes, she still often had silent arguments with herself (_Harry, that jerk, is my friend! No, he's not a jerk! What? Of course he is! God, that stupid nightmare about being Mr. I'm-so-great-because-I'm-the-reason-my-mother-died's (well, it's true!) best bud (well, after Weasely) has me all confused!),_ she seemed to be dealing with the strangeness rather well... that is, she appeared to be.

She quickly dressed, only to freeze rather suddenly. Though the colours on her clothes had magically changed, she found a crumpled piece of parchment – yesterday's homework. At a first glace, it seemed to be just that – homework. However, it wasn't that simple. Her name read 'Mione', the date was correct, but, stunningly, she'd written that she was in Gryffindor. Why would she ever want to be considered a Gryffindor, to busy about being brave and noble to push ahead (alive, of course, not as a ghost) in life? Thoroughly surprised by the G-house, she rapidly changed it, snapping at people when they asked, "_You're_ doing _homework_? _You?_"

Not long after, fully clothed and fresh from her shower, she slid down the banister, sailing off and making a two-point landing, even it was a bit ungraceful. Draco, already there, gave a very loud and very sarcastic cheer, and bowed low. Hermione's roaming eyes fell upon the giggling third year, and, with a grin, and cast a spell that would make his hair stay standing straight up for the next half hour. The rest of the crowd chose to keep their laughing secret after that as Hermione, using a tone she's expect some prissy princess might have used, "Oh, you need not bow in such a way, Mr. Malfoy. You may kiss my feet instead."

"What?" spluttered the blond boy, mocking complete scorn. "_Your_ feet? Not in your dreams, Mudblood!"

Hermione raised her wand. "Hah, don't think so! My parents are as pure as they come, Mr. Malfoy, and if you don't get to know that soon..."

Draco gave Hermione a gentle shove. "Come off it, Mione. Can't take a joke?"

Tossing her head back, Hermione sauntered to the door. Just before she was out of site, however, she paused and called back, "Sure I can, GG." Obviously, this was a well-known insult-slash-joke among the house members (and there was more to it that what you might think), who moaned appreciatively. One of them, a lowly first year with an obsession for pointing out when someone is insulted, loudly informed the room that that was a 'oooh, burrrrrn!', which earned him pink hair from a seventh year.

Draco, seething with fake, just-for-fun anger, growled, "Excuse me while I kill her," and swept out after his friend, wand raised in a 'threatening' manner. But when he caught up, the two simply stuck their tongues out at each other, shared a quick laugh, and carried on to breakfast.

Completely immersed in conversation, Hermione at first made as though to sit at the table she'd been sitting every day spare this one, for old habits die hard. Draco cast her a strange look, and inquired quietly, "Have you got a plan? Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Hermione, realizing this mistake and unable to fathom what she'd been thinking of, heading to the wrong table, made up a hasty excuse of, "Uh, yeah, sorta. But, I – it won't work. People aren't in their, um, typical places. Come on, lets go eat." And with that, she proceeded to guide him to their own table, on the other side of the room.

"Woah, you've memorized their usual places?" asked Draco as he was pushed along. "I'm impressed! Maybe we can go through with it tomorrow!"

Though glad that Draco hadn't thought it strange that she seemed to be saying things a Slytherin rarely would, Hermione, without any plan in mind whatsoever, hastily muttered some lame excuse like, "Oh, no, that won't work. It had to be today. I heard it was, um... someone's birthday and I planned to, you know, totally ruin it. I don't know who it is, though. I was hoping he'd get a present by post –" she waved her hand vaguely at the departing owls "- but I guess the party must have been in the common room. Oh, look, there's Zoe." The lies had slipped surprisingly well off Hermione's tongue, for her knew character often made up lies like these. Not big ones, normally – just little fibs to cover up any mistakes she made.

"Zoe?" Draco looks thoroughly confused with the name and the sudden change in subject. "Who the hell is Zoe?"

"Haven't you noticed? She's that third year, the short one with longish brown hair? Man, you _are _hopeless, she's been dropping hints everywhere!" Hermione pointed at a large group of third years with no less than four girls who fit the description and two that were very close to qualifying.

"Oh. Her. Of course, her. I just ignore her, that's why I don't really know who she is..." He then shoved a large forkful of scrambled eggs in his mouth, making it clear that the subject was closed.

Hermione suppressed a grin. Here she'd made up a person out of thin air, just as an excuse to change the subject, and she'd also been very ambiguous about this 'Zoe' and why Draco should know who she was. It was rather funny the way Hermione's best bud had so readily said that he knew who Zoe was when she didn't actually exist (at least, Hermione was pretty sure there wasn't a brown-haired third year named Zoe).

* * *

The first class of the day was Potions. Professor Snape, always ready to excuse the behaviour of even the most disruptive Slytherin, set them all to work making an Aging Potion. Hermione and Draco, partners as always, thoroughly enjoyed themselves. While one kept an eye on the bubbling caldron and stirred it every twenty-eight seconds, the other was free to plot (as long as they continued to dice the pine roots, a difficult task while they did so). It was Draco who came up with the idea.

"Professor," he called, waving his hand. Professor Snape zoomed over as if Summoned (and Draco had the sneaking suspicion that he had, for Hermione was busy stuffing something into her pocket), and Draco continued. "I found this prune among the ingredients for this potion on this desk (actually, it had been hidden inside the desk, along with one more) and the instructions of the board don't call for it. If it were to fall into the potion, what would happen?"

Professor Snape, looking surprised to be standing where he was (hadn't he just been off to pick on Neville?), answered after a pause. "That would be a very bad thing indeed. Adding anything wrinkly or old to an Aging Potion will make it turn the drinker into a baby. We shall test the potions at the end of the lesson, but anyone who gets it wrong will need to visit the Hospital Wing. I only have the antidote for a correct Aging Potion in the classroom." He motioned to a caldron near his desk. "Oh, and five points to Slytherin, that was an excellent question." Off he swept, making a beeline for Neville. Draco grinned.

"Can you sneak over to Harry and Ron and drop this in their potion, Mione?" He dropped the prune into her hand and she completed the task in an instant. "Thanks. I would have, but I think they've gotten especially suspicious of me recently. Now wait 'til we test the potions."

Well, the end of class was just as Draco had planned. Each and every Slytherin had gotten their Potions right. Draco, after being an old man for six seconds, disliked it greatly, and was rather relieved that they got to drink the antidote right away instead of after everyone had tested their potions. The Slytherins, back to their regular selves, had earned their house twenty points for their success. The Gryffindors were another story.

Neville, messing up as always, had a potion about as magical as vegetable soup. The others did quite well – until Ron and Harry took through own potion.

"After you," offered Ron, and Harry took a gulp. Ron followed suit a moment later. There was a few second's silence and then...

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Ron and Harry both screamed at the top of their lungs, their bodies shrinking rapidly as they turned into a pair of bawling babies. The Slytherins roared with laugher, along with two Gryffindors who obviously didn't like Harry and Ron as much as the others Gryffindors did.

Draco, the second prune in his hand, gave Professor Snape his best innocent look (the best he could with tears of mirth streaming down his face) and, between peals of laugher, managed, "It – wasn't – me Pro – Professor! Look!" And he showed the prune in his hand. "See? It – wasn't me!" He dropped the prune and fell into a chair like many others had already done. After all, how often did the most Gryffindor turn into a baby, his now-huge robes more like blankets than clothes?

"We'll take them the Hospital Wing!" piped up two Gryffindor girls, and, most of Gryffindor with them, carried the screaming Golden Pair off to grow up again. The Slytherins and the remaining two Gryffindors? They just remained where they were, laughing so hard it was hard to breath and acting out the scene again and again (to, of course, make the laughter last longer). Even Professor Snape chuckled, before telling the Slytherins that their 'outrageous behaviour' had lost Slytherin one whole point, which was quickly added back as a brainy first year Slytherin answered a difficult question correctly just before class ended.

All in all, Hermione and Draco found it a very satisfying day.


End file.
